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Chapter Fourteen – Of Goings and Comings
The oppressive silence returned as Harry waited nervously for Ginny to digest this admission. He would have liked to say something more but he did not know where to begin. Besides, he was not sure she would happily listen to him anyway while he sorted out his feelings for Sirius aloud.
In the end, she simply echoed him, "You think you're in love with Sirius?" Her face was blank.
Harry nodded, a bit of heat finding its way into his cheeks. "Yeah... "
She stood staring at him. Or rather, Harry had the impression that her gaze had fallen on him and now she had trouble averting it. It was stuck, glued to him.
"I suppose that is a good thing," she said eventually, very quietly.
"How's that?" He had some trouble breathing properly, it seemed.
She gave an awkward shrug. "I guess... I guess it's better that you... Well, I'd rather be replaced by someone you love than someone you just..." She fought to the very end of this statement; Harry could hear how strained her voice was.
He shook his head, feeling a bit of tension drain from his body. He did not know what he had expected. Maybe some more screaming. "You don't get it, Gin..." With a sigh, he sank back down on the bed. "It's not that easy."
"I think I'd be really angry if it were."
He looked up at her. She was not smiling. "I'd be furious if I were you," he said quietly, his train of thought taking a little detour.
This time it was Ginny who sighed. "Harry... you don't know what this past year was like. I wasangry, believe me. I was furious for you taking off with Ron and Hermione and leaving me behind."
"Dumbledore left me–"
"I get that, Harry. I know that. I get that it was always supposed to be you and Ron and Hermione. But can you even begin to understand how hard it can be for someone else – anybody else– to find a way into that tight circle of friendship?"
Harry frowned. "But Ron and Hermione fight all the time," he protested. "And Ron left us when– "
"They'd die for you in an instant," Ginny cut across him, her voice sharp. "Just as you would die for them."
To that, Harry could find nothing to say.
Ginny pushed herself off the door and slowly crossed the floor towards him, her eyes finally leaving him. "Last spring I thought that I had somehow figured out a way to handle all of this. I could be your girlfriend and share moments with you that Ron and Hermione need never know existed. And you would still be their closest friend and I would not be jealous." She plopped down beside him. "Then came the funeral."
Harry's heart sank low in his breast. "And I broke up with you."
"Yes." She scooted back until she leaned against the wall, pulling her knees up to her chest. "I've never felt more left out in my entire life. Not even when I was a kid and Fred and George would make me close my eyes and count to ten, only to find that they were gone when I opened them again." Her eyes looked a little misty but she did not cry.
"I'm sorry." He barely knew what he was apologising for – their breakup or Fred's death. Maybe both.
She acknowledged this only with a small nod. After a moment's hesitation, Harry, too, moved further up the bed until they sat side by side once again. He was relieved when she did not order him away.
"Imagine Hogwarts under the rule of Death Eaters," she said after a while. "We fought them as best we could, but Dungbombs do only so much damage after all... We used every trick, ever curse, every spell we were ever taught. I suppose the DA lessons paid off really well, in the end..."
She did not look particularly proud of their rebellion. In fact, there was a haunted look in her brown eyes. Harry's stomach turned over unpleasantly. "But...?"
She bit her lip, staring out into space. When she spoke again, her voice had dropped almost to a whisper. "They knew more than we did. We were never trained in the Dark Arts and they were all grown-ups. We were... after all... only children."
Harry did not need to ask. It took a whole lot of determination but he was able to quash the rising rage and building nausea, and he watched how his own hand landed on top of hers on the crumpled and moth-eaten bedspread. In silence, he twined their fingers together. He reckoned that what Ginny needed right now was comfort – launching a Hatred for Death Eaters Campaign would not do either of them any good. Deep down he did wonder, though, if he really was the right person for her to talk to.
The old house's usual creaky grunts and complaints were the only sounds heard for a while. No voices drifted up from downstairs; it seemed that Mrs Weasley had decided to leave them alone for a while longer. Perhaps she was envisioning them together: Harry and her daughter as a real couple. Finally. The conversation he'd had with Ron a few days back resurfaced among his memories. Perhaps Mrs Weasley was expecting Ginny to be wearing Aunt Muriel's tiara before too long? Harry suspected that his now quite firmly established dislike for any tiaras would not survive many hours as a valid excuse if Mrs Weasley set her mind to it.
He was stumbling along this most unpleasant line of muddled reasoning when Ginny gave his hand a little squeeze. "Tell me about Sirius?"
Harry dragged himself back to the present. He kept his gaze firmly trained on his knees. "I don't know how it happened," he said slowly. "I was so happy he'd returned... and then all of a sudden I wanted him to kiss me." He tried a smile and failed miserably. "How's that for an explanation?"
She ignored the last bit. "So you've discovered you have feelings for one another?"
"Yes. Well..." Harry shifted where he sat but their fingers remained interlaced. "I love him... I mean, I always have..." He grimaced. "Ever since I discovered the truth about him, that is. You know, realised that he wasn't out to kill me and that he would make a decent godfather and everything."
"He loves you too, Harry..."
"I know. But that's the problem." He looked up at her, but why he was pleading with her he could not understand. "See, he loves me but I'm in lovewith him. That's different, Gin." He searched her face as though he would find the answer there. "How do I know he's after more than just..." he swallowed, "sex?"
He saw the surprise in her eyes – the pure shock,to be honest – but he was so thankful that she did not pull away or blush – or curse him – that he very nearly said so out loud.
She did, however, make a face. "I don't think I'm ready for any details, Harry..."
"There are none," he hastened to assure her. "But..." he drew a deep breath, "he's made it pretty clear that he's, um, interested..."
"I kind of got that impression."
"I'm so sorry, Gin. I should have…"
"You should have told me, yes. I think we've agreed on that." She released Harry's hand and stretched out her legs before her. "I assume you haven't considered simply asking him?"
"No, not really," admitted Harry.
"You really suck at communicating."
He stared at her in surprise. A small, very bleak smile curved her lips.
"I've missed you, Harry."
He had a hard time arranging his face in a matching fashion; he still expected the blow. "I've missed you too," he said at last, almost cautiously. When this proved non-fatal, a warm and unexpectedly fluffy feeling began wrapping around his heart and he relaxed a little. It did nothing to drown out his curiosity, however, and with curiosity came pinch of hard, cold reality. He swallowed. "So... you're not going to tell me that he's too old? Or that the very fact that he is my godfather makes it disgusting?"
Ginny's eyes locked with his. "No, I'm not," she said quietly and almost too quickly. As though she had predicted the question and already made up her mind. "As much as I would have wanted for us to get back together, Harry, I can't make you stop loving him." She shook her head against the wall. "I don't think... that I think it's disgusting. As for him being your godfather and something like twice your age... you obviously know that already." She grasped his hand again and gave it a new squeeze. "Others will remind you often enough, I'm sure. I see no reason for why I should do it also."
"Thanks." It was embarrassingly inadequate but it was all he could come up with on such short notice.
"Just no details, please."
He smiled, feeling better now than he had in days. His heart had even picked up a decent rhythm that was not likely to kill him. "No details."
"Good." She let him go and slid off the bed. "I think we'd better go downstairs."
Harry followed her as she made towards the door but before they stepped out on to the landing, he laid a hand on her arm. "Gin... are you OK?"
She turned to face him very slowly. All traces of her smiles were gone and although she did not look upset, Harry got the feeling she was not too happy either. "I'm still angry with you," she said, "though I could never hate you even if I wanted to. I think I'm going to have to ignore you for a few days, Harry."
He nodded, unable to think of anything to say. As he followed her out of the bedroom, however, his mind was busy turning over another sentence of hers: Ginny thought that someday there would be others telling Harry that Sirius was wrong for him. This must mean that she believed that somehow their... thing... would be made public. There was nothing at all in this suggestion that helped assuage a sudden, rather anxious, churning of his stomach.
In the end it turned out that they did not have to make their way downstairs for the rest of the Weasleys, Hermione and Sirius were assembled in the drawing room. They all looked up as Ginny and Harry entered but no one said a word. Harry avoided Sirius' inquisitive gaze but he felt it burn its way through his body. Ginny, however, strode up to her mother and without further ado apologised for screaming at her before.
Mrs Weasley, whose eyes darted between Harry and her daughter, only nodded absent-mindedly and mumbled something Harry could not make out. Ron was lounging in the sofa and Mr Weasley stood by the fireplace with the large trunk beside him. Hermione and George had claimed the armchairs and Sirius was leaning against the wall, over by Harry's yellow curtains.
When the uncomfortable silence had dragged out long enough, Mr Weasley cleared his throat. "So, Ginny, if you are ready to leave..."
"Harry, dear," Mrs Weasley broke in, "are you quite certain that you do not wish to come with us?"
"Yes," he said, his voice scraping against his throat like wood against sandpaper. "Thank you, but I want to stay here."
She opened her mouth but Ron was the quicker one. He pushed himself to his feet and strode over to where Harry was standing near the doorway. Keeping his hands safely anchored in his pockets, Ron gave a casual sweep of the head so that his longish hair would stay out of his eyes. "So, mate..."
Harry flashed him a small grateful smile and Ron – with his back to his mother – winked conspiratorially. Then the moment was gone and the mirth in Ron's eyes faded.
"So..." said Harry.
Ron shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His hair fell across his forehead again as he looked down and chewed on his lower lip. When he lifted his eyes to Harry's face again, he looked oddly wistful. "Well done, and all."
Harry was reminded of Ginny's words from before. Yes, Harry would die for Ron without hesitation. He nodded slowly. "You too. Couldn't have done it without you."
Ron offered him a lopsided grin that was not altogether convincing. "If you ever need me to wield that Gryffindor sword again, y'know..."
"I'll let you know."
"Yeah."
Ron looked as though he was about to say something but whatever that something was Harry was never to find out because Hermione suddenly threw herself at them and crushed them all together in a breath-stealing, glasses-crushing, bruise-inducing, glorious hug.
"You sound as if you're never going to see each other again," she chided them in a thick voice, but the rest of her reprimand was lost as Harry tightened his hold on the two people who knew him better than anyone and who meant more to him than he could ever begin to describe.
He knew she was crying and when he squeezed his own eyes firmly shut, tears stung the back of his eyelids. "Thank you," he whispered.
When they disentangled, Ron quickly rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand before pushing his shoulders back. "He's only a Floo ride away, Hermione..."
"I've seen enough of you to last me a lifetime," Harry teased him.
Hermione heaved a sigh, but she was smiling through her tears. "We'll talk soon, Harry. Take care, will you?"
"I will," he promised her. He knew a small spark of guilt as he smiled at her. He hated keeping secrets from them, but it was too late now to say anything about Sirius. He would have to wait and see what happened before he let them in on it. Maybe it would all come to nothing anyway.
Over her shoulder he saw Mrs Weasley watching them with a fond, slightly sappy smile. "You'd better go," he said. "I'll see you..."
"On Friday," supplied Ron grimly, all humour gone from his face. "For the funeral."
Harry's heart dropped like a stone in his chest. "Oh, yeah. Right."
After that, there really was nothing more to say. He exchanged goodbyes with the rest of them, shaking hands with Mr Weasley and George who surprised him by hugging him too. Mrs Weasley tried one final time to convince him to join them in The Burrow but Harry gently but firmly declined the offer. Ginny remained near the fireplace. She did not look unkindly at him but she wore an expression that told Harry she was sticking with her plan. He gave her a small smile that he could not tell for sure that she returned.
One by one, starting with Mr Weasley, they disappeared among emerald flames until only Hermione was left. She turned to look at Harry. "It'll all change now, won't it?" she asked in a voice steeped in equal amounts of expectation, fear and wonder.
"Yeah," said Harry. "I guess it will."
She nodded, tossing some of the silvery powder on to the fire. Drawing a deep breath, she stepped inside the grate. "That's a good thing."
He worked up a smile for her. "Let's hope so."
"I'm sure it is," she said. "The Burrow!" And with that, she was gone.
Harry stood for some time, staring after her and at the flames that soon after her departure returned to normal. Not until this moment was he able to truly grasp that the quest was finally over. Ron and Hermione leaving meant that they had no more work to do together. No more missions. No more riddles, no more mysteries...
A new smile slowly spread over his face. Maybe now he would find out what basic, ordinary, day-to-day friendship was all about. Friendship that needed constant supervision and which was not furthered by some underlying fear of dying. He found that he liked that idea very much. He was definitely ready for some everyday, uneventful – even boring, if that was to be the case – plain and simple interaction with the people he loved most in the world.
And then, as if on cue, he sensed a presence behind him and hands landed on each of his shoulders. He started – the realisation that he did not have his wand flashed through his mind – before a very familiar voice drove the stab of fear away. "Missed you."
Harry let out a breath and forced himself to relax against Sirius' broad chest.
"Did I scare you?" his godfather chuckled, lips brushing the skin just beneath Harry's right earlobe.
"I've got pretty used to being the target..." muttered Harry under his breath, while trying not to give in too quickly to the shivers that now raced up and down his spine.
"I suggest..." Sirius decorated his neck with a string of kisses. "Nah, forget that... you could still be the target..."
Harry found it more and more difficult to focus. The flames danced before him in an endless muddle of moving orange and yellow. "What?"
"Only the attacks will be of another nature," mused Sirius while his hands drifted down Harry's sides.
"Sirius, wait."
His godfather froze behind him and Harry did not know whether to give thanks for this moment of clarity or not. He turned around in Sirius' stiff embrace. His talk with Ginny had dragged a few things to the surface, he realised – things he would rather forget but which were to be dealt with in only a few days, he'd been brutally reminded.
"How can..." he began, unsure of how to continue. He looked up into his godfather's grey eyes and felt a tug at his heart. "How can we do this? So many of us died... Do we have the right to... do this?" he finished weakly.
Sirius did not answer him at once. When he did speak, his words were so few that Harry felt he had missed something along the way. "For now, we forget."
When Harry did not appear to understand, Sirius sighed. "Listen," he said, "I feel the pain, Harry. It's there, all right. Like a fucking knife through the heart. It's like when James died... only this time it's only me left. Even if I was shoved into Azkaban the last time I knew Remus was still out there. One of us was... alive." He briefly closed his eyes. "Now it's only me left."
Harry swallowed hard. He dared to lift a hand to Sirius' face and he very gently brushed back some stray strands of coal black hair. "He must have felt the same way when you fell through the Veil. Lupin, I mean." Once a Professor, always a Professor. Harry still found it hard to speak about his old teacher and friend as 'Remus'.
"Yeah, I guess." Sirius shook his head, his cheek colliding with Harry's fingers that still hovered hesitantly in the air.
On impulse, Harry cupped his cheek. "I'm here with you."
Sirius stilled. "I know," he said softly. "And that's why I want to forget. Soon enough we'll have to face those monsters again."
On Friday, Harry thought. On Friday we'll have to face the world again.
He did not know who instigated the kiss, only that their lips met halfway and that the reunion felt like a blessing. Sirius' arms wound around his waist and Harry was crushed against his hard frame. He clung to his godfather as though releasing him meant condemning both of them to a lifelong existence without the other. Sirius' tongue pushed into his mouth, claiming his warmth, forcing him to comply without complaint. Harry was short of breath and his head was spinning as his godfather devoured him with such force that he could not even think of responding. He lost track of Sirius' hands cupping his arse or tugging at his t-shirt; they skilfully moulded him to fit perfectly with the plan Harry only vaguely sensed was taking shape in Sirius' mind.
He gasped when his godfather drove a knee between his legs, and he would have lost his balance had he not been so firmly held. Sirius' tongue was sliding against his own and Harry squeezed his eyes shut, not sure where he ended or began.
"Come here," muttered Sirius in between kisses, pressing a hand into the small of his back to urge him closer still. "I need to..."
He gave a little jerk of his hips and Harry's blood sizzled in his veins. Through the dizziness and the double layers of fabric he could clearly feel his godfather's hard length pressing against his groin. Only then did he discover that his own hands had worked their way underneath Sirius' t-shirt and that they were pressed against warm – very warm – skin. Dazed, he came to the conclusion that the kisses they had shared in the dining room earlier still held power over Sirius. His heart picked up a faster beat and he felt the floor dissolve beneath his feet.
Sirius' husky voice slipped through him without resistance and made him tremble. "Could you be hard for me, Harry?"
It seemed that Sirius did not require an elaborate answer for he did not ask again when Harry only managed to let out a strangled groan. In fact, he chuckled low and proceeded to tug Harry's t-shirt upwards. "Lift your arms," he instructed, as needed.
Harry was not sure how he ended up bare-chested because all he was aware of was his godfather's hardness pressing against his own too-shocked-to-respond-immediately flesh and open-mouthed kisses being scattered all over his neck and shoulder. The heat of the flames licked his back and yet he shivered as though seized by an icy gust of wind. Then he simply had to groan again for Sirius drove a hand in between them and rubbed his palm against Harry's slowly awakening cock.
"That's right," murmured Sirius when Harry bucked into his hand. "Tell me you like it, Harry."
At this point, Harry was ready to tell him anything he wanted to hear. He had never felt like this before. Blood was rushing to his groin, leaving his head blissfully empty but setting the rest of him on fire. "I like it," he said, in a raspy voice he would not have guessed was his own had he heard it under other circumstances.
Sirius' growl reverberated through him. "Sofa."
For all Harry knew, it could just as well have been magic and not his own feet that caused him to end up on his back with Sirius partially draped over him. He tried to focus as his godfather reached for something on the table and then the door slammed shut. Sirius smirked down at him. "This time, I will have nothing disturbing us."
Harry shivered again as he felt the spells and wards intertwine. Sirius was using some powerful magic but no one could have guessed by the almost careless way in which he flicked his wand. The grey eyes narrowed briefly before they fastened upon Harry again. There was a glint in them that he was beginning to recognise. Harry found it hard to breathe.
Sirius dropped his wand to the floor where it landed soundlessly. His gaze roamed Harry's chest but he did not touch it. Instead, he pulled back a little and in a swift move unbuttoned his trousers. With wide eyes, Harry could only stare as his godfather revealed his swollen flesh. Sirius caught his eyes and smirked again. "I've never been told I needed an Engorgio..."
If Harry had been nervous on the handful occasions when he had ventured a few steps into this new land, he was now scared witless. It was not so much Sirius' arousal as the obvious desire – the very primal, raw desire that radiated from him, which stated very clearly that all Harry could do was to lie back and do his best to enjoy the ride. And it frightened him, too, that he found this concept so utterly tantalising.
But Sirius surprised him, much to his relief. Still with a smirk playing on his lips, his godfather released his own cock and began fingering the buttons that prevented him from seeing Harry's humble arousal. When Harry did not protest, he set to work, offering a more genuine smile when he could drag a forefinger along the bulge in Harry's boxers. "Let's keep it simple."
If this was simple, Harry was not sure he would ever endure complicated. Obediently, he lifted his hips off the cushions and Sirius eagerly pushed down his jeans and boxers. Harry heard himself moan as his godfather's hand encircled the base of his cock and tugged experimentally. Curling around him, with his own hardness pushing against Harry's hip, Sirius began stroking firmly, assaulting heated skin that had never before known another person's touch. Harry sucked in a deep breath and tried to hold it but soon his breathing was beyond his control. His eyes fell closed and he bit his lip to stop the cry that threatened to burst from his throat.
Sirius mouth descended on his then, and he swallowed down Harry's groans and whimpers. With his tongue, he coaxed the young man to open up, and simultaneously one of his fingertips teased the slit at the tip of Harry's cock. Hot breath mingled and Harry bucked into the hand that stroked him.
Sirius draped a leg over Harry's knees, rubbing himself against sweat-slicked skin. "I want you," he growled. "Want you so badly..."
Harry's fingers were lost in Sirius' hair. He felt a scorching heat wrapping around the base of his spine and there was a tingle working its way from his toes and upwards, through his body. He tried to roll onto his side – he needed to move, to do something – but Sirius pushed him back down, kissing him hungrily. The stroking sped up, grew harder and bolder. Harry whimpered in earnest now, lost in a flood of new sensations. He was conscious of Sirius pushing against him and the hand that slid along his hard length. There was more friction now, his member leaking at the tip. He shuddered and he opened his mouth to scream but could make no sound. Instead he came, shaking forcefully and coating Sirius' hand with his release. His godfather gave in too; his roar echoed though Harry as he spiralled into a blinding light.
TBC